A Day in May

There was a time when I dreaded Mother's Day. In fact, I downright despised it. I considered that day a slap in the face, a glaring reminder of all that I lacked. It embarrassed me, that day. It caused me to feel excluded and even worse; pitied. Although no one ever came out and said it, I would always imagine people feeling sorry for me, the girl whose mom had abandoned her, the girl whose step-mom never allowed her to think of her as a mother, the girl with no real mom to speak of. I felt sorry for myself on that day. I turned it into the one day of the year that I would dwell. I would dwell on my bad luck with moms. Its not something I did often, but on that day- I would dwell. I would use that day I hated to think of all the people in my life who did have a mom around who cared, and I would wish I was them. Just for that one day I let myself feel the envy that was always simmering somewhere inside, stifled by my constant desire to be happy. It wasn't a good feeling. It always felt terrible being the only one I knew whose mom had voluntarily left her life.  As the years went on, I had myself convinced that when Mother's Day rolled around, I would definitely not have a good day, and I would certainly be miserable. And so I was. For many years, I was.

That Sunday in May gradually began to change for me as I began to grow and change, myself. The pain of the day slowly receded, and little by little I began to allow myself to enjoy it in my own ways. But I would be lying if I said that the ache was completely gone. It was still in many ways a day that represented what I did not have, and every year it was a struggle to mold it into something better. But I continued to try.

As one would imagine, it was becoming a mother myself that altered forever what the day would mean to me. Now I have a reason to celebrate -even better- to be celebrated. I no longer feel left out, like the day does not belong to me. I no longer have to try to make it better than it is. It just is better. Being a mom forever links me to this special day, not sorrowfully, but in the most joyful way possible. I no longer dwell on all that I lack. I revel in all that I possess. Being a mother that has allowed me to recognize the many maternal blessings I did have, and continue to have. I now see the aunts, the grandmas, the mother-in-laws, the moms of friends, all of the women that surrounded me growing up, as what they were to me. They were pieces of the mother I never thought I had. I am now even able to appreciate what my own mom and step-mom brought to my life. So now, on this day I honor these women. I commend these women. It is because of these women that I am all that I am today. Whether it was something big or small that was done, it was something to me. I thank you from the bottom of my heart and my children thank you. I adore being a mother. I was made to be a mother. And I was made by all of you.

<3

These Things

Full.

I am bubbling over with all of these things.

These things which sift around inside of me daily.

Just simmering until they are tender and juicy enough to be served.

These things will be served on a platter of fury.

A rage so bitter that the flavor of the meal is sure to be tainted.

Poisoned by regret and diluted with all that could have been.

A taste so unpleasant that no one dares to go near it, let alone taste its sickeningly sweet pain.

These things are layered with bittersweet tears and glazed with nights spent.

Constantly agonizing over these things that will not

that can not

ever be changed.

Heaps of emptiness and mounds of thick nothingness cover my plate.

These things relentlessly fill me, never leaving me hungry.

I am full.